Day of Rest
by Rhino7
Summary: A pick up line is a pick up line. Lameness is a given.


**Day of Rest**

**By Rhino7**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts, its characters or storyline. This thingy is mine. So, this little brain-fart is a side effect of a near plot bunny raping I survived yesterday, and I haven't been able to get it out of my head. Since all of my other stories going on right now are way too dark for this awkward-slaphappiness, I had to write it all by its onesy. My goal, if there was one, was to take a potentially awkward scene and make it intimate while still maintaining the awkwardness. I apologize in advance for it. I really do. I'm also sorry for the lame title. (lies down on the floor in fetal position) It's been a long week.**

**Takes place a few years after Kingdom Hearts II.**

**..:--X--:..**

Knock, knock, knock.

"You have got to be kidding me." Olette hissed.

Knock, knock, knock.

Olette looked down at herself. Here she was, perched on her bathroom counter, one leg lathered with shaving cream, hair pulled up in a spiky bun, and blackhead remover patch swathed across her nose. Couple that with laundry-day clothes and you equaled a very unattractive image.

"Hey, Olette, I know you're home."

Olette deflated. Hayner.

"What do you want? You know it's pampering day!" She barked back.

She heard the door unlock and open.

"I know, but I need a woman's opinion and Pence is out of town." He called from the living room.

"When did you get a key to my apartment?!" She barked.

She heard him nearing the bathroom.

"You gave me a copy last month, right after you moved in." He laughed at her.

Olette kicked the bathroom door closed with her free leg.

"Oh, don't be like that, Olette. Please, I really need your help." He jiggled the knob.

"What if I'm naked in here?! Stop it!" She braced her foot against the door, holding it closed.

"Are you?"

"No."

"Then what's the deal?"

"Just…ask me through the door."

"I can't."

Olette grabbed the edge of the counter. "Hayner, this is breaking, entering, and assaulting!"

"Fine, if you won't help me, I'll just help myself to your chocolate stash above the fridge."

Olette dropped her leg from the door. "Bitch."

Hayner swept the door open with a smug look. "Right back at you…What are you wearing?"

Olette felt her face redden as he scoped out the paint-stained tube top and clashing tye-dye short-shorts. He looked like he was fighting a fit of the giggles at her lathered legs and stickered nose.

"Shut up." She threw a bottle of shampoo at him. "What do you want?"

He leaned against the door frame. "Do all girls go through this?" He gestured at her.

Olette snatched up her shaving razor and aimed it threateningly at him. "Get on with it, boy, or I'll shave your head."

He smirked. "All right, what would you say to a picnic on the beach?"

Olette started, tilting her head. "What?"

His eyes bugged, "No! No, not you like YOU, I mean, as a representative of your gender, what would you say to it?"

Olette fought a frown. "Ah, I see."

She bunched her lips together, putting the razor against her ankle and shaving off a lane of cream. Hayner watched her casually, waiting for her to answer.

"Is it the girl at the candy shop?" She asked quietly after a minute.

Hayner didn't catch her tone. "Maybe. Maybe not. So?"

Olette rinsed off the razor and kept working at her leg. "I think…it sounds very nice."

He leaned toward her. "Nice how?"

Olette brushed her hair out of her eyes. "Nice-nice."

He groaned and sank to sit on the floor in the doorway. She focused on her leg.

"You've never had a problem asking girls out before."

He looked mildly proud of himself. "It's a gift." He grew serious again. "But this isn't the same. This girl—she's different."

"Good different or bad different?"

"Good different…I think. I mean—I don't know—and I'd never even noticed her before, but lately, I don't know—The other day we were hanging out and I just—SAW—her, like for the first time, you know?"

"Sure." Olette rolled her eyes. "Did candy girl get a boob job?"

"Hey, that's not fair." Hayner hunched his shoulders. "Don't judge me. I notice more in a girl than—"

"Joan."

"That's not—"

"Annabelle."

"Hey—"

"Erica, Brittany, Jessica—need I continue?" Olette prompted, sliding the razor carefully across the skin on the back of her calf and rinsing it off in the sink.

Hayner opened his mouth to retort, paused, seemed to think it over, and shrugged. After frowning for all of two seconds at her comment, he continued.

"I want to ask her out, move out of the Friend Zone, but every time I try, I end up sounding like a complete idiot, bowing out, and making some dumb joke instead."

"Have you tried just flirting with her to see if she responds?" Olette prompted.

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And I still can't tell. She doesn't flirt back, necessarily, but I think she likes me back."

"Sounds like hopeful thinking. Is she involved with somebody else?"

"No."

"You sound sure."

"I'm sure."

Olette furrowed her brow against the burning exfoliating cream across her forehead and cheeks and scratched her ear. "Okay, so you want to ask her out, but for some reason, your natural charm and charisma fail when in her presence." She said mockingly.

"Exactly. So…you're a girl—You know all about romantic crap. What should I do?" He blurted.

Olette finished shaving one leg and wiped her leg off with a wet towel, brandishing her razor for the other leg.

"I'm sure there was a compliment in there somewhere." She mused aloud. "Look, Hayner, if you like her so much, just be up front with her. DON'T use those lame pick up lines I hear you bragging to Pence about."

Hayner looked offended. "I only use high quality pick up lines."

"A pick up line is a pick up line. Lameness is a given."

She drew the razor up, cleaning off a strip of shaving cream from her shin. He watched her blankly; she could almost see the wheels in his head turning. Regardless, she dropped her head to let her bangs fall forward, covering up the flush to her face.

"Okay, so," He said after a moment, "I have her number. What if I just call her? Is that acceptable in…Femme-Bot World?"

Olette pursed her lips. "It's a little impersonal. I always find it more personal when a guy asks me out in person."

Hayner nodded twice and looked at her. "You have a variety? How many guys ask you out?"

Olette scoffed. "Some members of your male species happen to find me attractive…without a boob job!"

"I do not focus on a girl's—"

"Vicki."

"Stop it."

"Georgia. Christina. Kathy—"

Hayner waved his hands at her. "Okay, okay, okay, shut up."

Olette snickered and leaned over her knee, drawing another lane clear on the outside of her leg.

"So, face-to-face is the way to go. Okay, what if she says no to going out with me?"

"Aw." Olette tilted her head. "What woman can resist your charming smile?" She flicked cream at him.

He ducked from the cream and stepped more into the bathroom. Olette watched him with narrow eyes, daring him to come into her shaving zone. He leaned against the sink counter where she was perched and poked her ankle.

"True." He shrugged with a grin. "So, like, calling her up for a movie Tuesday night."

Olette sat up. "Tuesday?"

"What? What's wrong with Tuesday?"

"It's the beginning of the week. Most women are not available during the week because of work, you know that employment thing that most normal people do?"

Hayner crinkled his nose. " 'that employment thing that nee nee nah nah boo boo'. All right, fine, what is the optimal date night?"

"Friday or Saturday is the typical date night, but too cliché for my taste." She said, carving another lane and maneuvering the razor around her knee cap. "I'd say Thursday."

"How is that not in the middle of the week?" Hayner pointed at her.

Olette narrowed her eyes. "Don't question my advice on pampering day."

He lifted his hands. "Sor-ry."

She went back to focusing on her leg. "Friday and Saturday are too packed with dates and reservations and cinemas. Thursdays are late enough in the week to look forward to, but not technically the weekend, to avoid the crowd."

Hayner squinted one eye at her. "You're bizarre, you know that?"

Olette grunted and poked at the sticker on her nose. "Yeah, well, you're the one who's interrupting—"

"Pampering day, I get it." He waved her off. "So Thursday, huh? I guess that would work, her job is pretty flexible."

Olette put more pressure on the blade than was necessary and hissed as the razor skidded across the uneven skin at her knee.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." She grumbled, watching red speckle over the base of her knee. "Damn it." She rinsed off the razor and finished more gently above her knee.

"No, I mean, you seem a little tense." He tilted his head.

"Well, I'm not." She grumbled. "I have guys saunter through my apartment and watch me shave my legs all the time!"

"Hey…I do not saunter." Hayner lifted a hand.

Olette wiped off her other leg with the wet towel and placed a small swath of tissue paper over the bubbling red at her knee.

"Seriously, though, what would you consider a romantic date?" Blood colored his cheeks.

Olette stifled a sigh, wishing against logic that his blushing was for her. Clearing her throat, she swung her legs off the counter and hopped to her feet, turning to face the mirror again. Oh, dear God, she'd forgotten about the bright green exfoliant marking the top half of her face! She lifted a hand in a meek attempt to shield her face from him, regardless of the fact that he'd seen her for the last fifteen or so minutes.

"Uh, well…" She stammered, splashing water over her forehead and rubbing at her cheeks. "It depends on how long you've known her, how well you know her, what you expect to get out of the date. Is this another nice-ass fling?"

"No! I'm offended that you think I would—"

"Beth, Monica, Carla—"

Hayner gesticulated wildly, "Why do you keep track of this stuff?!"

Olette scrubbed her face dry with a towel and inspected her face in the mirror again. "Hayner, you are 23 years old and have yet to be in a real relationship. Is that what you're wanting with this girl with all her—good different-ness?"

Hayner shoved his hands in his pockets, averting his eyes. "Maybe. I don't—I don't know. She's not a fling. She's—different."

"We established that. So, you've known her for a while and it's not a nice-ass thing." Olette frowned at the white strip across her nose.

"Y'know, I think you're supposed to take those off before you wash your face." Hayner offered.

Olette glared hotly at him and he backed up a step. She huffed and reached up, crinkling her nose as she tugged at the edges under her eyes. The adhesive burned as she peeled it away. She stretched her face and pulled the rest of the pad free, holding it out and squinting at it.

"Huh, it works." She leaned toward the mirror and studied her nose.

Hayner made a face. "You girls and your weird girl-nose-sticker-things."

Olette pursed her lips and tossed the thing into the waste basket. "All right, my blackhead problem is solved, back to your problem."

Hayner's eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers. "I got it!"

Olette canted her head. "See? Just being in my presence helps you channel your inner romantic."

He gave her a flat look but then perked up. "I'll ask her out…for a Thursday night…to the clocktower!"

Olette paused. "The clocktower? Like the one where we three used to hang out?"

"Yeah, it's in the middle of town, and we could…watch the sunset or something. Sunsets are romantic, right? Girls like that crap, right?" He asked with a hint of desperation. "I mean, would you like that?"

She went slightly stiff at how closely he seemed to ask her personally, but disillusioned herself and combed her ponytail with her fingers.

"Sure, I mean, yeah, if she's—if she's a romantic kind of person."

"I think she is."

"Oh, well, you just have this woman figured out; why do you need my advice?" Olette said tersely, stalking past him out of the bathroom and into the kitchen.

Hayner trailed after her. "Whoa, easy. This is your girly day. I thought the point of the girly day was to make yourself feel all…girly and happy?"

Olette reached into the freezer and pulled out the emergency gallon of sea salt ice cream. "Yes, but the focal point of 'girly day' was to escape testosterone-packing, desperate, hopelessly-shallow BOYS!" She slapped the counter and popped the lid off the ice cream.

Hayner seemed careful to keep the counter between himself and Olette. "Why are you being so weird all of a sudden?"

_Because I want to see the sunset on the clocktower and all that romantic crap!_

_Really? Because I want to see that too! With you!_

_Oh Hayner!_

_Oh Olette!_

Cue music.

Olette snapped back to herself and dug out a spoon, attacking the brick-like ice cream.

"I'm not being weird, maybe you're the weird one!"

"I didn't just burn off a layer of skin from my face and pull some nasty…stuff off my nose!"

"Well maybe you should!"

"What?!"

Olette straightened from the ice cream and took a measured breath. "Look, Hayner, I wish I could help, I really do, but I'm not functional today. This is my first day off in two weeks and no matter how flexible the hours are, they are still grueling. So please, just for today, can you and your man-whorring inclinations leave me in peace?" She pleaded.

Hayner lifted his hands in surrender. "Okay, don't go Hulk on me, I don't think the clowns from thirty years ago would appreciate you ripping their shorts."

She glowered and he fled the kitchen, stopping at the door to Olette's apartment.

"One last thing." He prompted, holding onto the door.

Olette groaned and locked her elbows, rolling her neck in his direction. "What?"

"What are you doing this Thursday?"


End file.
